Coma
by Yoshiyuki Ly
Summary: Chapter 17 of Effervescence. Artistic integrity with the summary...


**Note **– Chapter 17 of Effervescence.

**Warnings **– Unabashed 'magical' strap-on usage.

**Disclaimer **– I don't own Final Fantasy XIII.

Set in Palumpolum, after the unfortunate events of Bartholomew's death, and Light's common cold.

_Coma – Apocalyptica _

_A loved one laid his head on her lap.  
Red roses fell to the floor.  
And the world, stood still._

Fang was alone, outside underneath the lightly falling snow, sitting on that same swing from the other week. She wore a black fur coat and knee-high pumps, and underneath she had on her sari. She was swinging a little while she read Light's letter to her that early evening, awaiting her return to that very spot.

Weeks had passed, and to Fang's knowledge, Light had received no word about returning to work any time soon. As a result, the soldier had been reclusive, more so than usual. The presence of Snow and the others had had even more negative effects on her. So she had understandably needed to get away from the others at Hope's apartment for a little while, and had instructed Fang to wait there while she went for a short walk alone to clear her mind.

No one was around for miles, it seemed. It was so quiet, so still. So peaceful. Only the snow surrounded her while she read, a contented smile on her face; a fascinated eyebrow raised. The words were more than enough to keep her beyond warm from her face down—down to the snow beneath her feet. Lightning was slowly but surely becoming more eloquent and imaginative in her letters.

_I had a dream, recently, about us. I want to recreate it—and this is what happened:_

_I knelt down before you, with all my love for you, and laid my head on your lap. Red roses from my hand fell to the floor when you bent over, when you wrapped your arms around me. And the world, like my heart, my breaths; stood still. My eyes were cribs and they were growing lies—all I could see was black, but you were right in front of me. _

_Or maybe I was finally looking at nothing, the nothing I've always wanted to give you. You were there, with me, and I wanted to ease you away from this cruel world that had the ability to keep us apart; help you fall into a sleep so deep, as strong as a coma. _

_I don't know what my love was on, but I do know that in my dream, I felt like you were the only thing I could love in this dying world. But the simple word of 'love' itself already died and went away. I couldn't say I love you; I needed to say something else, do something else._

_If I couldn't be your love or your light, then I wanted to be something better. I wanted to be your night, your seclusion; what kept you asleep after giving you anything you wanted from me._

And then, Lightning returned, approaching her without any roses to Fang's slight surprise. She wore a white cloak, pants, and her same boots underneath. Fang watched her through glossed eyes as she stood before her, bent down. Those eyes were flitting between Fang's, and her lips. Inspecting them, almost; oblivious to the anticipation she was knitting with each saccade of her eyes.

She spoke quietly, "Come with me."

Fang was in no place to object, finding that Light was already pulling her up by her hips, and kept her arms wrapped around them as they walked back in the direction of the general populace.

"You know you can talk to me, Light," she said, after several moments of silence. "I'm here for you…"

"I'm being stupid." She shook her head. "I want something."

Two very different statements, both said in the same breath. Fang thought nothing of her idiosyncrasy and went on, "What is it that you want?"

Lightning gave her a sidelong glance. After a few more of them, she kept eye contact a moment. Her eyes roved down, stayed there. Down further, and moved back to the snowy sidewalk ahead.

"You read my letter."

Fang's breath caught onto something moving rapidly, lingered there in her chest. "I did…and it was beautiful. You know how much I love your writing, babe… But what d'you _want_?"

They had made it back to the Business District of Palumpolum, amid the growing crowd of commuters. When Light appeared as though she had no intention of answering, Fang went on, "When are you gonna recreate it? What you wrote, I mean. You said you wanted to."

"Eventually."

Fang's brows knitted in her confusion, and she gave a hum of minor disbelief. And as they were crossing one particularly busy intersection, Lightning stopped them right in the center, jarringly, and only stared at her while they faced one another.

Passerby eyed them with respective reactions, as varied as the thoughts traversing through Fang's mind by the second. Cars were passing by, behind her, while she regarded Light's sternness, noticing the people in the line of cars waiting on the light to change. All of them were staring, of boredom, of curiosity. Not the way Lightning was staring at her; of course not.

There was but one solitary want in the blue she could see, beneath sharp-soft falls of hair. As coldly as the wind that passed them by did the moments go.

And then they were walking again, per Fang's lead. The light had been in the midst of changing, and she was none too keen on getting ran over. Lightning seemed frustrated while they made their way back to Hope's apartment.

Fang let out a deep, inaudible breath, to keep her cool. She had learned of the dangers in trying to figure Light out, in trying to force anything out of her verbally or otherwise. She would wait for Lightning to come to her, when she was ready.

Later that night after dinner, Fang was standing next to Light in front of the TV, watching the news with her while the others were busy talking loudly in the kitchen. Lightning was wearing black jeans for some reason, a matching tank, and was very much unable to stand still. Fang was in her usual clothing, without her sandals, eyeing her strangely in between paying attention to the announcements.

Once again, Lightning appeared deeply frustrated, while the newscast went on about some Lieutenant Colonel Nabaat. Fang was busy wracking her brain, trying to remember where she'd heard the name before. She could have sworn Sazh had said that very name at some point during their journey, but she couldn't recall when.

Whoever this Jihl person was, her recent recovery and restoration to power as advisor to the current Primarch was much cause for Light's current anger. She lit up minimally when the announcer divulged rumors of plans for the woman's assassination, and promptly turned off the television, engulfing them in darkness amid the far-off sounds of conversation.

"So _that's_ what she meant…"

Fang faced her, tilting her head to one side, folding her arms while Light went on, "My superior called me a few days ago and told me about Jihl. Because of that, it looks like I'll finally be heading back to work tomorrow."

"Oh." Fang didn't have much excitement to offer about the prospect. She'd gotten so used to seeing her so much these past weeks. "So d'you wanna catch a train back to Bodhum tonight, or…?"

Lightning looked stricken, slowly began walking past her, "That's the thing. My ride will be here first thing in the morning. The _Lindblum._" She stopped, however, once they were shoulder-to-shoulder. "The Cavalry is actually planning the assassination, but they can't do anything right without causing a huge panic. So they need an outsider's help."

"So they want _you_ to do it…?"

"No…but Jihl thinks the Homeguard in Eden is up to something. So…"

Fang shut her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath through her nose while she stood in front of Lightning, staring her down, "_So?"_

Light was unfazed and continued on, "So I'll be gone for a while. I have to help find someone to get the job done. You saw what happened when she was under Barthandelus, so this needs to be taken care of as soon as possible."

_That _Jihl. Now she remembered… "And what if you can't find anyone?"

"Then my superior will do it, and risk ruining her reputation, and that of the Guardian Corps as a whole."

"…but then _your _rep's ruined if that happens, won't it?"

"Yes, maybe…most likely…but this needs to be done. We have no choice. I'll be in Eden, looking around, and doing whatever else I'm ordered. I'll be living on the _Lindblum _until this is over." Though she understood, Fang still lowered her head while she nodded. Lightning held her face resolutely, looking deeply through her, "Fang, I swear on my honor to you that I don't know how long I'll be gone. I'm not lying—I learned my lesson. You saw to that…"

Lightning wouldn't even spare her a kiss, and simply continued out of the living room to go pack her things. Possession was such a rupture in her chest in that instant, listening to Light's footsteps receding down the hall, away from her. Possession, what was had over her so effortlessly those six months. The very same that made her veins go cold with the fire of depravity within.

Yet because she knew she needed to be strong, to be accepting of the circumstances and to be devoid of grievances, she began walking to the kitchen. Not to their room, where she would undoubtedly and selfishly after some time ask Lightning if she _really _had to leave again. If Lightning was going to continue being in the military, this was something she needed to get used to.

But how could she get used to it, when it was bound to be shaped so differently each time she found out about the imminent goodbye? The first time, she had no idea what to expect—the confusion and ambiguity had twisted her from the inside out without fail. And this time, she was too hollow to be twisted anywhere on the inside—there wasn't anything there of substance. Only her feelings for Lightning were there. Those were not to be touched or twisted; could not be changed, nor warped, only tested and grown, as they were now.

Perhaps the motions of the manifestation could be blamed for her prickling moroseness. As she stepped into the kitchen, no one noticed her entrance—they were too busy accepting something in their glasses that was being poured by her smiling sister. Snow, Serah, Hope and Val were there, looking at the substance curiously. Fang smirked despite herself while she stood next to Hope—Vanilla Ice had made its return.

"You all have to try it!" Vanille insisted, filling Snow's glass, who was the last in the queue. "I'm sure you'll love it, trust me! Now go on! Drink up!"

The four of them took one sip and promptly made sour faces, complaining loudly and colorfully of the poor quality of the drink. Fang, too, was surprised while Vanille stood there, looking down at the hourglass-shaped bottle as though it had offended her.

A minor distraction from her troubles; Fang grinned while she accepted Hope's glass that he nearly shoved at her while he fled the kitchen with his hands over his mouth. Serah had a polite hand over her wrinkled face, and Snow set his glass down on the counter behind him while he too left the room.

"I'm sorry," spat Val, wiping his mouth angrily while he stood next to Serah, "but what the _hell _is in this? I thought you said it was supposed to taste really, REALLY good! Like, beyond this world good!"

"Oh _no_…" mourned Vanille, still regarding the bottle, "maybe I didn't make it right? I was so sure I made it _exactly_ like I did last time… Ohh _what_ could've gone wrong…?"

"Why don't you try it and see for yourself if you made it right or not…" He looked shifty, to which Fang raised an eyebrow at. "You know, since you claim it's supposed to be so good and all…"

While the two of them kept going back and forth, Fang decided to try the offending drink and see if she could spot what went wrong. The moment the glass touched her lips, she began anticipating a terrible taste, but upon actually _tasting _it, she nearly dropped the cup.

Her tongue and throat and heart and body were suddenly caught between a pain and press. The coldness in her veins came back; a cold, hungry vision possessed the buds of her tongue, trickled down. It was vanilla, at first, but slowly it grew into the shape and taste of rainfall in the dusk with lightning and wildflowers. Aching and longing joined the tastes so tangible, adding a visceral quality to everything.

She knew, now, what Lightning _wanted. _Fang kept with extreme difficulty from leaving the kitchen and going to demand that Light take her already. They weren't going back home any time soon—she had no excuses anymore.

"But that's the thing," Vanille went on, her voice intruding Fang's ears, "it's not _supposed_ to taste the same as when you tried it a long time ago! Didn't yours taste like vanilla at all?"

Val was scowling at her as though she was spewing nonsense he did not want to hear, "…no."

"Well what did it taste like…?"

"Like crap," he offered sourly.

Serah's face still hadn't changed while she spoke from behind her hand, "No offense Vanille, but it tasted like fish rotting in snow."

"You serious?" asked Val; Vanille was shocked. "Mine tasted like some old person's diaper who had a bad case of diarrhea—"

At that, Fang finally cracked up laughing. Maybe the tea only worked properly with women who were in love with one another, or maybe she was right that Val was not meant for her sister. Perhaps Snow and Serah's passion for one another was equitable to that of a dead fish in the snow. Whatever the case, she'd known all along that what she felt for Lightning was not _normal _in any sense of the word.

It was above anything anyone she knew had ever experienced. She had honestly felt isolated around them because of this, thinking that maybe she felt too much. But now she knew that was complete nonsense.

And then in came Lightning, joining Serah and the others in their strange staring at her. Fang was barely able to articulate to Light that she take her sister's glass and taste the tea. Serah was all too happy to donate her drink to the cause, and Fang was laughing even harder at the _crimson _flush of Light's face and neck once she tasted it. They both set their glasses down, knowing quite well what the other had tasted in just one sip.

In an echo of laughter, Fang steered poor Lightning from the kitchen and back to their room, ignoring the far-off sounds of retching from the other bathrooms about the apartment. But upon closing and locking their door, Fang stopped laughing immediately. She regarded Light standing by the lit table lamp on the desk, looking at her backpack on the table. Soon after, she grew bored with her backpack and swiftly made her way to the bathroom, and did not shut the door or turn on the light while she stayed inside.

Of course, Fang followed her, an honest expression of curious concern on her face. She was surprised when she stepped along the large wool rug, saw the candles lit on the spacious counter. They warmed her face considerably, but not more so than the sight of Lightning's bare back bathing in the glow. She still wore her jeans, lighting a stick of chocolate incense, not noticing Fang's approach in the mirror. For all she knew, Light sensed her there; sensed the mountain of anticipation she was mounting over and over with every one of her movements while she focused on her task.

Upon reaching her, standing behind her, against her, Fang felt Light reach back and guide her hands and arms about her waist. In amusement, Fang's eyes narrowed a tick, and she kept her chin along the muscled curve of the shoulder that was glistening in half-shadow, half-candle glow.

"Mmm, so _this_ is what you were up to on your little _walk_ earlier," she surmised, softly, watching Lightning open a scarlet and golden wrapper of milk chocolate. The hum of agreement she heard rang gently in her ears amid the wrappings. "The candles, the incense, the chocolate…" She smiled when she noticed the red there on the counter, "the roses…ain't this a little cliché, even for you?"

"I can return everything, if you want," she replied quietly, breaking off a piece of chocolate and feeding it to her. Fang wanted her to do no such thing, especially when she tasted what Light held between her fingers in her mouth, when she _tasted_…her fingers, really. "I was saving it for when we got back home, but…it looks like that's not happening any time soon. Then again…"

Lightning turned in her arms, letting out a small chuckle when Fang's eyes unabashedly went right to her chest. She received more chocolate for her wandering eyes, more time to lightly suck the tips of her digits; more innuendo to work with as she was steadily given more long, chocolate-rose-candle-kissed skin to taste.

She kept speaking, gently feeding her more that Fang was all too obliged, and eager to take in, "I always feel at home when you're with me…" Lightning removed her hand, fed her more chocolate; slowly moved her other hand down, removed Fang's belt, "I should've done this sooner…"

She swallowed, felt her eyes flutter closed when wet nails glossed down her face, before the hand moved with the other to venerate her body as they should have—to remove her sari with that veneration, while Lightning whispered along her sinewy shoulder, "I've never undressed you before…have I?" Fang shook her head no…no, she had not… "I've been holding back. I knew, seeing you like this, letting me have control over you… I knew this would happen. I _know_ you want this from me…"

As soon as she felt her silk relieve itself from her, down her body, her torso curled a curvature as steep as the rasping cry from her throat upon feeling those shallow nails rake her shoulder blades; rip her halter top from her so deliciously. Lightning dove forward and gave her mouth the same treatment she had given her sari that now pooled about her bare feet. As soft and sudden as the re-acquaintance of her dark hair along her back described the care in Light's lips and tongue.

And Lightning was taking her time, pressing her fingertips down the body she held so close to her, so _possessively_. Fang was a resplendent bouquet of breathy hitching and anxiety when Light's hands connected down the small of her back, making a V-shape as they went; when those fingers grabbed her ass on the way to grabbing the thin black fabric there, ripping it apart and out of the way.

When she began whispering provocatively down her throat, guiding her backwards to the wall of the still-running shower, her ruined clothes was quite honestly the last thing on her mind, "Don't you dare think about tomorrow… Just think of me, us; here…I'm _here," _Fang's backside met cold linoleum; her lips grew cold from the absence of Light's, "so get on your knees, _right_ now."

A shiver showed itself, wracked her spine on its way down, exactly like she wanted Light to _do _to her, "Now _that's_ what I like t'hear from you…" She took one last breath of warm vestiges of chocolate through her mouth, smelling the same through her nose while she regarded Lightning with a small smirk; and like a snake descending, she did as she was told. "You keep this up, y'hear me?"

She smoothed her hands down that strong, almost-curve-free body as she went, savoring the dominance Lightning held over her with her looming posture alone, "…I'll do as you say, as much as you want… I'll do _anything._" Her knees met the rug, her back stayed against the wall while she breathed in the fabric, the protruding closure of black jeans, "I'm all yours…so be sure and treat me that way."

Lightning eased a hiss from between her teeth, between licking her lips; between Fang rubbing her thigh with one hand, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping her with the other, "And what…_way_…is that?"

"Any way you want me…" Fang tilted her head into the tender touch of Lightning's hand, "besides…you know how I like it. Don't hold back with me… I trust you, Light…with everything I am."

There was a slight bend to Light's body while she kept all ten fingers laced in Fang's hair, through the soft cream flickering sheen there. She was trying to watch, to see if this was _really_ happening. Fang was too blown away by the capitulation coursing so softly and strongly in her being to question anything.

And then the jeans were off, were down; away. The smirk on her face grew once she saw how much she had made _Light _do the same, but not completely; not yet. She was a fun challenge, Lightning.

Her hands felt the partially erect length, her erect fingers began to rove, massage; relax her. A relaxed grin was upon her face while she focused on her slow movements, listened to the shallow breaths from above. Fang's chest was knotted delectably; she'd wanted this for so long, too long. To rub both her thumbs and index fingers along Lightning, to breathe her, see her like this…

Her back and torso had curled, in her delight in feeling more and more substance between her hands. And she breathed over the head, breathed her soft voice over it, kept her lips right over her pulsing interest, "Lightning…" Her tongue _accidentally _licked, languidly, from saying her name. And Light, just as accidentally, let her chest and legs shudder with her strangled groan, "You like this…?" Her tongue again. More shuddering. A louder groan. "Or…d'you…want more of me? You want more of my mouth? Is that it…?"

Fang _wanted _to provoke her into more action. But she found that she didn't need to do much beyond that, for Lightning the back of her head with one hand, kept the other on her still-growing length; poised to make her blow. Looking down at her so piercingly. And Fang, ohh, she was oh so very _soaked_…down her thighs…down to the rug; down to hell.

Blissful hell described her mouth over hardening arousal that tasted of saline and skin, a hardening soul for her, over _Fang's _actions of steadily turning that cool softness into a bar of heat. She kept her hands gripping Light's thighs, as Lightning was gripping Fang's hair, the base of herself. Her jaw quickly began to ache, the muscles of her mouth and tongue burned, but she mapped it all into her want to please. Fang did not want to go at any even pace; she kept it uneven, kept her teeth from grazing—the one time she tested with teeth, Lightning did not like it.

The rasping breaths, the small sounds, smaller words… Fang kept looking right up at her, watching that head throw itself back, denying her air, slowly bringing to her head a motion that was not her own. When they regarded one another, Fang's gaze was aggressive; aggressively conveying: _give me more, keep narrowing my world and my senses into you; make it as narrow as you are down my willing throat._

More was taken in, as though the throbbing length was her last piece of breath she could ever hope to take in; and over and again she did, as much as she could, now that Lightning's hand had moved to caress the sweat beading the olive skin of her face. Her lungs, her heart depended on this movement, on this continuation. To overcome her boundaries, to make her overcome over her, Fang kept testing her mouth, testing her jaw, testing the back of her throat with care, caution; as careful and caution-filled as the moans from her own chest.

Lightning was still resisting, panting heavily, sweating. Largely quiet. And Fang did not like it.

But a part of her wanted to prolong this. After this, there would be nothing…nothing…for time indefinite.

Fang touched herself adroitly. She'd learned herself well during Light's sexual absence these past months—a minor detail she'd lied about. Not that it mattered—Light was grousing now, whispering her name now; watching her thumb keep her lips apart and her first finger coat herself, rub in quick circles with the tip directly opposite her sharp nail. The action melted away that resistance; she was open to thrusts now, however shallow they were—she took them, met them with her neck and back into it. She let out any soft sounds that met her mouth whenever the curve of the head tickled her particularly well, let them hum in time with the throbbing.

Light was losing now, "Fang… _Fang_," she could hear their heartbeats in the shuddering of her voice, of her sounds, "I can't…see anything anymore…" Slowly, she felt those nails crawl up through her sweating scalp; bring her closer, closer… "It feels…too good… stop." She kept holding her head, kept thrusting, a little harder now to her delight, "Please…_stop_…!"

They were both finding such abnormal gratification in this resistance. Lightning's cries were growing louder, echoing in the dank bathroom filled with steam. The running hot shower was a poor competitor for their running confliction, for their marathons of want trailing down their glistening skin. Fang placed a firm hand against Lightning's thigh, tried to push away, though she _didn't_ want to. When the thrusting grew shallower but did not stop, she dug her nails into the muscle there. More out of her pain to still have enough sense to stop as she had asked.

Halting joined their quickened breathing. The discomfort Fang felt from the throat up was lost in the haze she felt in her head, the haze of events that had actually occurred.

She didn't have long to reflect, for she was risen gently; roughly, by her arms, steered backwards into the tall, long room of the shower, not quite underneath the water. And those lips were on hers the moment her back met the damp wall, thanking her with rapture; seizing her mind with the ease in which they moved with her own. Fang was smiling, grinning almost while she held that roving face; smiling and sounding her pleasure at the possessive pressure of Lightning's hands slowly moving all over her body.

Fang's breaths felt so heavy despite the moment. There was smoothness everywhere—the natural balm to Light's lips, her touch, the texture behind her and beneath her feet—yet everything seemed so dark, so intangible in its frictionless quality. Lightning had her body pressed so closely to her; she could feel three sources of hardness, against her, so easily. When Light moved down to her neck, breathed her, marked her while she screamed and gripped her tight, all she could know was this darkness, this helplessness.

"I need to taste you," grunted Lightning, her only signal before bending her knees and clamping her arms beneath Fang's thighs; lifting her from the floor with a shocking momentum and belligerence, "I saw you touching yourself earlier…" The thrill of the sudden lift kept Fang smiling while she sat atop Light's shoulders, gripping the roots of her dampening hair while she breathed along her, so moist, "…you smell so damn good…_so _damn good…"

And her tasting was sudden, sharp, sucking. An arm flew back to the wall, to support her raging mind while she curved automatically. Lightning was holding her safely about her thighs, looking straight up at her head thrown back; listening attentively to each and every reaction. She was engorged, thighs spread as much as possible atop such comfortable shoulders; seeping right into her mouth. Light lapped at her with the tip, curled that wet tip coated of her and ventured shallowly. The tickle there was slight at first, grew alarmingly quickly.

She was swimming waist first in a sea of waves that kept finding her, kept finding her. Lightning's pressure was such that her determination to be with her was apparent, undeniable. There was respect, there was want, there was need—there was everything, nothing. Everything she needed; nothing she could describe. She wanted to speak, to goad her further, but her voice would not obey. All she could do was obey the touch, obey the pressure, submit to the pent-up pleasure finally releasing itself.

_Right _before she could, Lightning stopped. She took a step back, allowed Fang to fall into her arms, her legs still over her shoulders. Fang felt yet another sudden rush when she was taken from the bathroom, led backwards into the room through a wind of want that was so clear in her ears.

Back in the deep dark silver bedroom they were, and Light was walking with a strong need to the bed. In a coil of her own moan and the coldness of the duvet she was upon her back, underneath Lightning who was upon her knees, still holding her entire body steadfastly.

Lightning's words were very soft, belying the bottomless darkness in her eyes, "You're so beautiful… underneath me…like this." Fang searched her eyes in anticipation, feeling her source of surrender hard, brushing against her in time with Light's deep breaths, "You seem nervous…don't be." And then she noticed fearfully, Lightning was shaking. She gave a sardonic laugh, "You're better than me…always have been. You're so fearless…so adoring of me…"

Fang thought she would have a moment to collect herself, or to say something in response, but she was wrong. Lightning spoke gutturally while pushing herself inside, quickly, "And you're finally _mine." _

_Mine_—it joined the rip after the wide intrusion through her wetness, burned up and through her, widened her obtrusively and so lovingly with her pause all the way inside, "L-Lightning!" gasped Fang, digging her nails into that strong back with the pain all about her, making both of them arch into one another. Her heart picked up to severe degrees, scalding her lungs and chest with the rapidity, "Ohh…" a long, shuddering moan left her, "nnnh!—_ohhh_ m-my _fuck_—you're…"

Coherence was lost upon Fang; she felt her neck and face redden with her disability, while Light stared right into her, unmoving save for her trembling, seemingly paused for an oblivion's moment. One of the arms about her tense body left her, so that Lightning could support their weight with her elbow. Her uncontrollable quavering still persisted, and she tried to look away.

Fang quickly moved to hold that blushing face in her unsteady hands, having them look at each other anew while she smiled in all her bodily pain. She couldn't speak; only showed through her glistening eyes how much she needed Lightning to grasp every moment they had left together, tonight.

She felt her legs being released, and she quickly wrapped them about Light's waist, gasping sharply at the new angle. The constant reminder and revoking, reminder and revoking made Fang finally let out her every frustration, through her eyes—she was blind to any other form of release while her current one was still building between them. She had been delightfully robbed of her usual control, her previous power.

And that was the funny part—she had never had either such thing, not with Lightning. She hadn't wanted to face it last time. Now, she felt trapped in it, but she trusted her. Her fears turned themselves into her arousal, her arches; her agony.

Hips interlocked, shoulder-to-shoulder—they matched each other. Except Fang was not trembling nearly as much as Lightning. Light's head was soon cradled in the crook of Fang's sweating neck, and she held onto the soft roots of hair, feeling the twinge from between her quickly dissipate to her eyes. She understood now, why Light almost cried that night…

She could not understand why she herself was crying now.

The moist push and pull of such an erectness, of such a crafted love that took such time to create and be realized. The chasing, avoidance, denial, build build _build_ was finally _here. _Here, the night before she had to leave again. Slowly Lightning kept giving the illusion she was to withdraw completely, only to re-enter her slickly and quickly, pressing against a very tender spot each time; slowly but surely driving her _mad_.

That steeping curve she felt with every entrance, it seeded her anew each time. The stretching of time into a blanket of breasts, muscle and love over her; it felt so dark, so blinding. Underneath it she tried to keep her moans light, for she could hear activity throughout the apartment still. Her dominance did not seem to care for the others, and it spurred them both further. They weren't supposed to be doing this—they were supposed to be out there, spending time with them before tomorrow morning, yet they weren't.

Too caught up in each other…too caught up in each other. In a coma, dead to the world; Light did only what Fang wanted tonight.

Lightning moved faster. Lightning called Fang's name, cried it; kissed her neck, her face, all she could reach. The friction had been building in Fang's anxiety, while she found the sense to move her hips in time with Light's, increase that throbbing against her. It made Light groan, curve her back; hit a spot she'd been licking before, making Fang grip her tighter and whine louder in response.

Shivers erupted from right between her, spreading all over Lightning's length, spreading all over her mind. All she could feel was that increasing speed, hear that panting in time with her own. Light sounded so in control; Fang sounded the opposite—and it was pure bliss, twofold.

Lightning finally felt the saline steadily running down one side of her face, tried to snap her head up, "Fang?" But Fang would not let her see. Such small sounds left her, though large in their outpouring, when Light began to move faster still in defiance, "Let me love you," she shuddered, "_let_ _me_ be here, while I still can…"

Tightness prevailed between them, and Fang felt her eyes stay open so wide, to dry, to mimic how her mind and heart and body had become underneath Light like this. She felt herself clamping, unclamping; gripping, releasing with her pulsing, with every groan she heard next to her ear.

Though she began to panic when she felt Lightning about to slow down, and quickly hitched, "N-No… I _want_ you…to come inside of m-me…" There was no getting out of this—she sped up again, pushing herself harder, as her last duty for the night, "I'll do anything…_mm_…to have you claim me…"

She breathed gruffly, making Fang shiver, "If that's what you want…then _forget_ who you normally are…and whimper my goddamn name…"

Fang did, though it took some time to get it right; at first she could only give high-pitched breaths. And they regarded one another, the sounds and name escaped her as Lightning wanted them to be shaped. The liberation in letting go, finally, made her forget. Something left her that moment, when Light began to tremble anew in her arms. And it sparked so dark, so long and so loud like her name and the curses that left Lightning's mouth.

Warmth was a sudden torrent between her, and that made her grip Lightning's body so hard she couldn't breathe anymore. _Loud_, rasping screams of obscenities and Light's name left her while she convulsed over and over so violently; while she felt all that she knew, leave her. Nothing was there, wherever she was, and the absence of reason secluded her in a high. She'd cursed the time it took her to get here. It was dark, blinding; nothing existed but her wants—Light, among obscurity: the perfect world.

All of it lulled her right to sleep, so deeply, so differently than before. She stayed there, like the drifting of strings across a sound so close to her heart. Shaped so darkly, like the bliss around her, swarming her imagination to sleep, to an emblematic coma, with Lightning right by her side.

_So there you go. My mind is in a bit of pain from all the transcribing of such a concrete vision in my head. If you're still alive, a review and/or an add to favorites would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, and I hope you need a change of clothes now._


End file.
